Happy Birthday, Beautiful
by Emerald Embers
Summary: Celebrating Connor's birthday starts out as a joke. Connor/Hank


It's easy to make fun of Connor. He's upbeat to the point of absurdity, baby-faced, and lacks anything resembling street sense. As time has passed, he's got better at handling banter, but all too often he still takes back-handed compliments with sincere gratitude, or takes sarcastic instructions literally.

It's good that Connor doesn't take offence to being teased, because he's the most infuriatingly pretty thing Hank's seen in years, making it all the harder to stop teasing him.

Hank doesn't know what to do with pretty, never has. He talked to Cole's mother by fussing over her dogs for weeks before he could trust himself to say anything to her face without making an ass of himself, and that was back when he still had good health and sobriety as selling points.

Faced with Connor, he has nothing of use to offer but increasingly irrelevant experience, and it's androids like Connor rendering him obsolete.

Even so, Connor still looks at him as if he's worth something.

.

The idea of celebrating Connor's birthday starts off as a joke, a way to spite Gavin for giving Connor shit when Connor refuses to pay towards Gavin's own birthday drinks. It's an idea that quickly gains traction because there are few people in the office who would ever miss a chance to roast Gavin, and labelling the day Connor turned deviant as his robo-birthday makes a nice distraction from all the more painful reasons the day is memorable.

It helps that Connor's better liked around the office than he realises. A habit of risking his life and taking bullets for others has that benefit, even if it's a habit that's going to give Hank a heart attack sooner rather than later.

The office does a whip-around and Hank buys Connor a music player with the proceedings, plus a few songs so that they're not _all_ illegal downloads, and presents it to him on the day along with a card.

Connor's face is politely pleased, almost unmoved when he thanks everyone for the music.

He tears up when he reads the card.

Hank grabs tissues for him quickly, hoping Connor doesn't cry anything worse than water or thirium, and rubs Connor's back while he dries his eyes. Connor honest to god looks _embarrassed_ by the crying, even though it doesn't last long or leave him red-faced and snotty.

"I've never…" Connor starts, before folding the card neatly and tucking it away inside his jacket, straightening himself up. Hank waits for an end to the sentence, but it never comes.

He gives Connor a one-armed hug around the shoulders, figures he can get away with that much under the circumstances, and forces himself to keep calm when Connor leans into it.

.

Taking Connor out for drinks when the day shift ends is more for their colleagues' benefit than Connor's, but he bears their insobriety well.

Hank feels safer getting drunk around Connor than he does with most people, despite remembering the humiliation of waking up freezing wet and reeking of booze while Connor stood over the bathtub.

Connor still scolds him if he drinks too heavily, but other than that, he's a great drinking partner despite being unable to drink. His soft voice, cool hands, and mothering tendencies are a balm whenever the nausea or dizziness of excess drinking kicks in, and he always ensures his colleagues get home safe. There's also the reassurance that no one's drinks will ever be spiked in his presence.

Connor doesn't even draw on people with sharpie after they pass out unconscious, more likely to hold their hair back while they vomit and leave a glass of water and two advil on the bedside table ready for the morning after.

Maybe that last part was just for Hank, but Hank didn't dare ask.

.

Hank wakes up covered in sweat, dying of thirst, and desperate for a piss in the early hours post-Connor's birthday, rolls over to deal with it and realises there's an arm around his waist.

Connor moves his arm quickly, but Hank's still awake enough to know what just happened and definitely awake enough to realise they're going to have to talk about this as soon as he's done having that much-needed piss and a drink of water.

Hank answers nature's call as quickly as he can and returns to find Connor still lying on top of the sheets, stripped down to pristine white boxer-shorts and an equally white undershirt.

They're as modest as bedclothes could be, but Hank's heart still jumps at the sight. It's the closest he's ever seen Connor to naked, and Hank's not so old as to be unmoved by having someone beautiful in his bed, no matter how ridiculous the circumstances.

"Okay," Hank says, trying to think about the thousand and one reasons it's a really, really bad idea to climb back into the same bed as Connor.

None of those reasons are as convincing as Connor's pleading expression.

Hank lies down beside Connor so that they're face to face, cock twitching when Connor rubs a foot against his own.

"You're still drunk," Connor says when Hank leans in to kiss him, and Hank groans, resigned.

"Yeah."

Connor licks his lips, and Hank wants nothing more than to lick them himself.

"Will you kiss me when you're not?" Connor asks, and smiles when Hank nods. It's torture to be so close that he could count Connor's moles if he wanted to and still be unable to touch them, but Hank promises himself he's going to do just that as soon as he's sober.

Connor wraps his arm back around Hank's waist and closes his eyes.

"You don't sleep."

"You should sleep," Connor retorts, voice modulated to sound sleep-soft.

He's getting better at teasing people back, and Hank's oddly proud of himself for that.

.

Hank has to get out of bed for another glass of water part way through the night, but when he finally wakes up with the intention of waking up, he finds two things waiting for him; a hangover ready to punch him in the skull, and Connor ready to try and kiss it better.

Hank takes his advil first and gets out of bed to brush his teeth before he lets Connor try, because he'll be damned before he ruins what's likely to be Connor's first kiss with morning breath, and because it gives him more time to panic about the fact Connor _wants_ to kiss him.

When Hank finally kneels over Connor and kisses him as best as he knows how, it's worth waiting for. Connor is nothing if not a quick student and in this, at least, Hank is perfectly happy to be his mentor.

.

It's still easy to tease Connor, but the nature of the teasing has changed. Connor can't blush, but if Hank works him up in public he'll dip his head as if to hide it in his collar, lose track of his train of thought, or find something to fidget with. It's neon obvious when he's flustered, and Hank delights in it.

He doesn't know why Connor lets him get away with any of it - the teasing, the kissing, the manhandling of someone stronger and faster than he was even in the prime of his life.

But the way Connor looks at him makes him feel as if he's worth more than his outdated experience and poor health, and against all better judgement, he hopes that Connor's right.

Not just because he wants to deserve Connor, but because Connor already makes him feel as if he does.


End file.
